


Business Casual

by goresque



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Headspace, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Other, Pet Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:35:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27201890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goresque/pseuds/goresque
Summary: Swindle enlists Vortex on a business adventure that requires an alarming amount of trust.
Relationships: Swindle/Vortex
Comments: 12
Kudos: 24





	Business Casual

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Plugs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plugs/gifts).



> This is a charity commission piece for @Plugs ! He asked for nonsexual pet play with Swindle and Vortex, and here I come to deliver.

Swindle stared at the comm number on his HUD. He was still debating whether or not he should actually make the call, despite having already accepted the job offer it was regarding. He wasn’t hesitant, or scared, Primus forbid. Tentative was a word he would prefer to use. It wasn’t the business itself he was feeling  _ tentative _ about, it was the trust he was going to have to have in the mech on the other line.

And he really didn’t like trusting other mechs.

Swindle clicked on the number.

_ [What do you want?] _

_ [Good to hear you too, ‘Tex, good to hear you,] _ Swindle kept his tone cheery, pushing forth the shield of business between them. He had waited until Vortex was off-base on purpose. He hadn’t wanted to start this conversation in person.  _ [Got some business. You’re my mech, I’ll give you a twenty percent chunk.] _

_ [This couldn’t wait ‘til I got back to base?] _ Swindle thought he heard Vortex say something off-comm, muffled by the audio dampeners.

_ [Sensitive information,] _ Swindle insisted. He kept his cowardice to himself.  _ [I’m going to a business meeting on Delta Zura-3 in five orn. I was encouraged to bring a… companion. And I know this is something you’re experienced in.] _

_ [Companion. Hunh. Are we talking fun stuff, Swin? Liiiike, cords and chains?] _ Swindle hated the way Vortex’s vocoder lilted. That was the voice he used when he thought he had an edge. And he probably did, damn him.

_ [Something like that. I need someone who’s comfortable with this, and I also need backup.] _ Swindle didn’t want to come off as needy– if Vortex sensed he was desperate then he would try and extort him for information, or worse, discounts. Swindle shuddered.

The line was silent for a moment and Swindle held his vents. He didn’t want to resort to throwing in an extra cut of the block when he didn’t have to. Then,  _ [We’ll talk in my hab. Don’t worry ‘bout Brawl. Be back in three joor.] _

Swindle hung up without affirming. He wrote Vortex a memo to confirm, and promptly stopped thinking about it.

* * *

When Swindle arrived at Vortex’s door there was a chamois on top of the code panel. Swindle knocked instead of pressing the alert, intent on not touching anything Vortex owned– who knew where it’d been.

The iris of the door cycled outward and Swindle stepped in with just enough time for it to shut tightly behind him with due diligence. Vortex was laying on the bottom bunk, legs kicked up with a datapad held at his knee. Swindle wished he could believe Vortex was actually this casual.

“So, what’s the word? You attend crazy interface parties now?” Vortex asked, thankfully starting the conversation so Swindle didn't have to. 

“It’s not like that,” Swindle said, quiet as he gave a cursory glance around the room. There were a few subspace generators and a small shelf that housed a variety of guns, small parts, and dirty cleaning rags. “This is an upscale place. People like to bring their… exotic pets.”

Swindle didn’t miss the way Vortex’s leer intensified. The gleam of his visor prompted Swindle to avoid optic-contact, it only to deny his teammate the satisfaction of getting under his plating. He wanted Vortex to understand the subtle hints he was dropping so he wouldn’t have to figure out how to say it. 

“How exotic are we talking?”

“How exotic is a pet helicopter?” It felt stupid as soon as he said it. Swindle didn’t back down, grin spreading wide across his features as a shield. Vortex gave no physical tell that he was thrown off besides the twitch of a rotor blade. 

When Vortex spoke it came slow, like hot oil pouring around tense gears, “More likely than you might think.”

It was time to throw in the towel with the mind games. Swindle released a tired vent. “The big boss at this place of business is into some of that stuff you are. You know, the collars and chains?”

“Yes,” Vortex intoned, gaze lecherous, “I know.”

“Well,” Swindle paused to swallow the lubricant that had built up in his throat. He moved himself away from the center of the room, shifting until he could covertly insert himself at Vortex’s side instead of his opposition. He suddenly remembered Vortex shared a habsuite. “Brawl isn’t going to just… walk in, is he?”

Vortex waves off his concern. “We have a system. The towel’s on the door panel, means I got company.”

“And he actually pays attention?”

“Only takes walking in once.”

Swindle tried to convince himself he didn’t want to know what Brawl had walked in on. The thought of it was hilarious, but also curious. What could make Brawl of all mechs squeamish? “Who are you even fragging?”

Another rotor twitch. Vortex was slow to sit up, stabilizers folding under his frame as he rose to his knees. He gained that same soft tone again, “Not everything is about fragging, Swin.”

Swindle was so taken aback by Vortex’s admittance. Or, rather his demeanor in doing so. Vortex sat with his servos on his knees, rotor blades lowered as he kept his gaze trained on Swindle. It was less piercing, gentler around the edges. It was vulnerable, Swindle dared think.

“What is it about then? I’m going to need the crash course.” Swindle decided that if Vortex was going to allow himself to be vulnerable– a very stupid move in his personal opinion– then Swindle may as well throw him a bone, as the Humans said. “I don’t know anything besides that one of us is the pet and the other the master.”

Instead of answering, Vortex pushed off the berth. He approached one of the subspace generators, withdrawing a selection of items into his arms. In orderly fashion he laid out the items one by one with tender care, like they were valuable treasures. Once everything was laid on the berth, Vortex reached into his personal subspace and withdrew a length of cord attached to a heavy, textured collar. They too were laid beside the other toys, and Swindle finally took stock.

It was a befuddling mixture of items. There was a length of heavy link chain with a clip at one end right beside what looked like a hood meant to cover a mech’s entire helm. Next to that was a strange binding of tarp and mesh in the shape of a petrorabbit. Wires frayed at some of the edges where it had clearly been torn open, holes littering the body of it. The neck looked as if it had been torn off at one point, and some kind of styrofibres poked out of the throat. 

Next to the well worn stuffed rabbit was a chewed up strut– the kind you gave to turbohounds to sharpen their fangs as a treat. It, too, looked as if it had been at the mercy of something unforgiving.

The largest items on the berth were stylized into the shape of paws with sharp, pointed claws embedded in the ends. The sight of the paw gloves stirred something in Swindle in a way he didn’t want to acknowledge. Nothing major, or significant. Just a flutter in his tanks, a clench of his jaw, and a tightness in his spark casing. The thought of those paws in conjunction with a leash, and a collar… Swindle wasn’t exactly sure what he was feeling, but this paraphernalia was doing  _ something _ to him.

“So, what do you use these for?” Swindle asked, trying to seem like he wasn’t as interested as he actually was. “One at a time, please.”

Vortex pointed to the collar and chain. “I like to wear these when I’m a pet. Self explanatory.” He pointed to the paws next. “These too. I put them on, can’t use my servos. Means I have to rely on my owner.”

“What, so you’re helpless?” Swindle hoped not, that would defeat the purpose of having Vortex there to help protect him. “Guess I would be the owner in this situation, then.”

“Thought you were the one carting around an exotic pet helicopter,” Vortex pointed out, crossing his arms in front of his frame. “I’m not helpless. It’s just a toy, Swin.” He motioned to the hood, that Swindle realized had more shape than he had originally noticed. “This goes over my helm. Probably not gonna be usin’ it for whatever you’ve got planned. Limits my visual input too much. Fun when it’s not business.”

“What about  _ that?” _ Swindle asked, pointing to the stuffed petrorabbit that had seen better days. 

The look on Vortex’s features could only be described as  _ soft. _ Swindle wasn’t sure he liked it, to be honest. But he kept his intake shut as Vortex picked up the toy and prodded at the hole in its neck, seeming rather fond as he did so. 

“I like to chew on it.” Vortex pressed the middle of the stuffed mechanimal and a wheezy, sad squeak sputtered from the toy. The squeaker had definitely been punctured at some point. “I always thought it might be nice to have one when I was a newbuild. Y’know, like how those Towers bots always got puzzles and stuff to stimulate their new shiny processors?”

Swindle nodded. He didn’t understand, not really. As a newbuild he had onlined with nothing but his batch-mates and a broken, empty credit stick he’d found under one of the assembly line tracks. The concept of a toy hadn’t even been on his radar. 

“You into that newbuild play too?” Swindle asked, unsure if he wanted the answer. 

“Sometimes,” Vortex admitted, catching his companion off guard. “Depends. You gonna be my owner or my Daddy?”

Swindle’s face scrunched up. “What’s a daddy?”

Vortex shrugged. “It’s a human word. I like how it sounds.”

Swindle decided that was best left for another cycle of debauchery. He had more than enough to deal with here and now. He turned his focus back to the two remaining toys to be explained.

“So, that ones self explanatory,” Swindle said as he pointed to the chewing strut. He motioned to the chain, and then the woven steel cord. “You’ve got a leash already. What’s this one for?”

“I like ‘em to beat me with it.” The glint in Vortex’s visor indicated he was tossing out bait for Swindle to hook himself on. When he didn’t bite, Vortex shrugged again. “Sometimes I like something more heavy duty. And, also, I do like to get beaten with it.”

Swindle couldn’t say he was surprised. He tried to shove down the feeling that welled up between his conductors at the thought of Vortex kneeling with the chain whipping across his rotor hub. He tagged the emotion to be processed later. Or maybe ignored forever. 

“It’s a no weaponry party, I don’t think they’d take kindly to me beating my pet. Even if you want me to.” Swindle said, unable to stop himself from making a joke. It made everything a little easier. 

“Beating me’s a bit too advanced for you, Swin,” Vortex rumbled, his rotor blades vibrating with his engine. Swindle could tell he was imagining what it would be like. “I’ll keep it simple for you. You hold my leash, and I’ll be the big bad turbohound nobody wants to see walking towards them. You do all the talking, and I’ll sit there and look scary. Think you can do that?”

Swindle frowned, uncertain he liked how vague that was. “If you bite me, I swear-“

“Nah,” Vortex cut in, waving his servo as if wiping away the very thought. “I won’t be a brat during business. After, though…”

Swindle made a face, but persevered, “Alright, fine. I think I can handle that.”

“I want fifty-fifty.”

“What!” Swindle exclaimed, the very thought of parting with that big a cut downright treacherous. How could Vortex even  _ think _ about asking him that? It was robbery! “No way. You can have thirty.”

Vortex stared at him with his unblinking visor, and shook his head. “Fifty-fifty, or I walk. This type of thing? S’gotta be equal on all levels.”

Swindle was downright appalled. But he could also tell that Vortex was deadly serious, and there was no way he was going to get around this because Vortex  _ knew _ how important to this plan he was.

Swindle crossed his arms over his bumper and refused to look at anything other than the very interesting wall. “Fine, fine, you twisted my arm. Fifty-fifty.”

Vortex’s visor crinkled, a telltale sign he was smiling under his mask. “Alright,” he said, tone cheery. Swindle knew he was in for it. “Let’s talk limits.”

* * *

The party was lower-key than Swindle anticipated.

He wasn’t entirely sure what he had been expecting, but he also wasn’t sure if anything would have surprised him. It was both more, and less, than what he’d expected. Swindle tried not to look disappointed that not a single bot had their circuit boards on display.

“Just act like it’s a regular business meeting,” Vortex had said before they entered the building. Swindle had wanted to say he didn’t need a pep-talk, but he’d remained quiet while he calculated the best way to make an entrance. The next thing Vortex said had caught his attention, “Regular business meeting, but you’ve got a big, scary turbohound that will make people think you’ll sic me on ‘em if they piss you off. Any time you think they might not be takin’ you seriously? Give me a nice scratch under the chin. Make me the star of your show, Swin.”

It was much more poetic than Swindle was used to Vortex being. 

So Swindle had sauntered in, with Vortex behind him on the simple black leash. No one had spared them glances, and as Swindle peered around at the other party attendants he found that there were many pairs, some triads, with someone on a leash. It helped to assure Swindle this wasn’t some joke, and that really, he should be flattered he was even invited.

“Nice of you to join us, Swindle,” the patron of the home said in greeting. Swindle recognized her alt being a mining drill. She raised her cube to Swindle before she took a sip. Swindle took notice of how she used the cover of drinking to give both him and Vortex the once over.

“I’d apologize for being late, but I’m really not sorry. I was enjoying myself.” Swindle gave the leash a short tug, prompting Vortex’s engine to rumble beside him. Swindle kept a close optic on his business partner’s gaze and how it flickered between himself and Vortex to gauge threat level; like any good Decepticon would.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” the drill said, reaching her free servo down to pet the mech at her pedes. Swindle noticed that they were adorned with jewelry and organic drapes, but underneath was still a collar. That seemed to be the theme.

“I don’t mean to get started right with business, but I don’t suppose we’re going to be putting any plasma cells on the table?” Swindle needled, feeling around for where his boundaries might lie. There was always something to be said about throwing out offers to see what would bite. “I don’t mean to brag, but I’ve got a pretty secure line to sell.”

“There could be. I don’t think you know me like that yet, though.” The way she said it sounded like it should be taken as a joke, but Swindle could see where they stood with one another. She wasn’t going to trust him easily, and he would have to assure her of his discretion and charisma.

That was when Vortex reached over and pawed his leg, the claws of the binding-gloves tapping against his armor. Swindle remembered their earlier talk, and acted accordingly.

“Poor thing,” Swindle crooned, servo reaching to give Vortex’s chin a gentle scratch. His fingers tingled as Vortex’s features melted into one of relaxation and delight. Vortex’s rotor wiggled, and a rumbly purr resonated throughout his entire frame. Swindle noticed he even pulled back his derma  _ just so _ to show off his wicked dentae.

Vortex shuffled, his engine revving several times, as if mere scritches wouldn’t be enough. When Swindle didn’t act soon enough, and seemed to make an effort to focus back on his business, Vortex whined and pawed again.

“Oh, fine,” Swindle sighed, mock-exasperation coloring his tone. He dug around in his subspace pocket, feigning looking thoughtful before he finally closed in on the toy. Out came the petrorabbit. He dangled it in front of Vortex, who was already looking excited. He crooned, “Here you go! Just for you.”

As Swindle squeezed the pathetic squeaker it gave a wheeze. He tossed it ever so gently towards his pet, and Vortex snatched it out of the air with his jaws and shook it with all the aggression of a real turbohound. Swindle couldn’t help but laugh with delight as Vortex chewed up the squeaker and caused a great cacophony of terrible aborted squeaks. Vortex was occupied then, and Swindle was able to get back to work. He even found himself reaching down to pet Vortex, who laid content at his feet, still chewing on his petrorabbit. While Vortex found his happy place, Swindle got down to business. 

Small steps forward. Their host didn’t seem keen on giving Swindle too much information to work with— which was his own fault, really, he’d cultivated quite the reputation for bad business— but through the course of a few drinks, Swindle had it in the bag. 

“I don’t suppose you’d ever give your pet a chance to wander?” the mech said, her gaze wandering to Vortex. Swindle could see her admiring his wing blades. 

For some unknown reason, that stirred up a nasty pit of jealousy and possessiveness in Swindle. He cut her a sharp smile and leaned down to use both hands to rub Vortex’s neck and faceplates, showing off his collar. Regardless of the reason, Vortex was pleased to be given attention. While Vortex’ engine purred, Swindle said, “He’s got his own ideas where to go sometimes, but… I rather prefer he stays where I can see him.”

Part of it was self preservation… But also, Swindle didn’t like how hungrily she looked at Vortex’s rotor hub. 

Swindle watched his partner shoot their host a lecherous look through his visor, and his derma tug up into a wicked grin to showcase his inbuilt weaponry. 

“I see why,” she responded. 

“He’s too good of a pet to give up,” Swindle praised, giving Vortex’s abdominal plating an affectionate rub with one servo. He found even as they wound down he couldn’t keep his servos to himself. He pet Vortex, laid his servo atop his helm like he would a beloved pet, even allowed Vortex to rest his helm in his lap when he shuffled up and leaned in between his thighs. Swindle watched the way their host admired the picture they made. It was quite the performance.

Swindle came away with a steal. He always did, of course, but when you were splitting fifty/fifty then you had to aim a little higher. 

Outside of the party, where the cold was able to soothe his circuits, Swindle made a move to open the collar from around Vortex’s neck. Only to be stopped. 

“Once we’re home,” Vortex whispered, and Swindle felt his faceplates heat. He wasn’t sure what it was about that soft tone, but it lit up his emotional matrix like a firecracker. 

Even on the transport back, Vortex laid down across the bench-seats and laid his upper body across Swindle’s lap, his rotor blades facing out and his face buried into Swindle’s abdomen. He said little, instead choosing to make soft purring noises with his engine. Every little rumble has Swindle’s spark rotating half a second faster. He laid his servo across Vortex’s neck, and felt the copter relax with a heavy sigh. 

Back at base, Swindle walked Vortex to his hab. 

“Do you, like… need anything?” Swindle rubbed the back of his neck, unsure what to offer his team mate. It felt silly, to be unsure now. 

“I have a routine,” Vortex intoned. The way he said it made it seem to Swindle like his presence would be more a hindrance than help. “But.” The way he said it made Swindle screech to a stop from where he’d been about to turn away. “Take off my collar?”

That same soft voice again. Swindle felt helpless to do anything but what Vortex asked of him. He reached up where Vortex was tilting his helm back for Swindle to work his servos around the collar, which fell away easily. Swindle wordlessly transferred it over into Vortex’s hands. 

“You’re a good owner, Swin’,” Vortex whispered, disappearing the collar into his subspace. The way he said it made Swindle’s protoform shiver. “Was I a good pet?”

“The best I could have asked for,” Swindle said, and to his horror it was incredibly genuine. He shuffled his feet again, and he saw Vortex’s visor tilt up like he was grinning behind his mask. Swindle gathered up the courage to say, “Next time we’ll separate our business from our personal life, hunh?”

This time Swindle  _ knew _ Vortex was grinning. 

“Next time. You got it, Swin’.”


End file.
